“Your old room. The one you used when we used to come to the lake on the weekends. Someone had been in there. The bed was dented, like someone had been sitting on it. And this was on the pillow.”
He showed them a single white lily with a black ribbon tied around its stem. Savanah's blood turned to ice.
“Like the flowers on the marked graves,” she whispered.
“What graves?” Richard asked sharply.
She explained about the cemetery and the marked graves with flowers. With each word, Richard's face grew paler.
“Has anyone unusual been asking about Savanah?” Mason's voice was professional now, all FBI.
“That's the thing,” Richard said. “In a town this small, everyone knows everyone. But lately, there's been talk. People suddenly bringing up old stories, asking if I'd heard from you.”
“Which people?”
“Lots of people. A teller at the bank, the butcher at the grocery store, people at the diner,” Richard said. “Ever since they found those bodies in the barn, it's like the town is picking at old open wounds.”
Mason picked up one of the wooden carvings, studying the small figure with flowing hair that resembled Savanah's. “This is detailed work. Not something made quickly.”
“You’re right,” Richard agreed. “Someone spent time on it. Knows how to work with their hands.”
A new heaviness settled in her chest. She tried to focus on what she'd come here to discuss. “What happened with you and Mom?”
Richard's shoulders sagged. He moved to the window, staring out at the lake. “I let her believe the rumors that I had an affair.”
“But why?”
“Because it was easier than admitting I couldn't handle what you both could do. That I was afraid.” He turned back to face her. “Not afraid of you, butforyou, for both of you.”
“I don't understand.”
“Your mother...” His voice softened on the word. “She tried so hard to be normal. To fit in. But every time you saw something, every time you knew things you shouldn't, it reminded her that normal wasn't possible. Not for either of you.”
“So you left?”
“I let her think I'd betrayed her. Let her hate me.” His laugh was hollow. “Figured that would hurt less than knowing I wastoo weak to handle the truth. I’d never be able to protect either of you the way you deserved.”
“That wasn't your decision to make alone.”
“No.” He picked up another unfinished project, a small clock, its surface half-carved with intricate patterns. “It wasn't. Biggest mistake of my life.”
“You still love her.”
It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. “Never stopped.”
Silence filled the cabin, broken only by the distant sound of waves on the lake shore. Mason moved back to the window, his posture alert as he scanned the tree line. The carved figure on the table seemed to watch Savanah, its wooden eyes following her movements.
“She misses you, too, you know,” Savanah said finally.
Richard's hands stilled on the clock. “Don't.”
“Why not? You both made mistakes. You both ran from things you should have faced together.”
“Like you did?”
The words could have been cruel, but his tone was gentle and understanding.
“Yeah.” She met his gaze. “Like I did. But I came back.”
